


Samarra's ballad

by Black_Dawn, CrushedRose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 05:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10587609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Dawn/pseuds/Black_Dawn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrushedRose/pseuds/CrushedRose
Summary: "There was a big celebration in the capital‘cause the war is finally overThe soldiers had come homeand they’d taken off their uniforms.In the street they were dancing and winingThe musicians played on and onIt was spring, and women could finally hug their men..”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Riflessioni di un Holmes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9280583) by [Black_Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Dawn/pseuds/Black_Dawn). 



> Since I started this adventure in Sherlock’ s fandom I had the desire to publish my works not only in my own language but in English too.  
> I have to thank CrushedRose as I translate her amazing works in Italian she helps me revising all my works to give them a better English form.(except this note that’s why it sounds so bad . ;-)  
> that's why I add my lovely friend as co-author.
> 
> daynaan

Mycroft Holmes hangs off the phone and remained as he was, standing near the fridge, lost in his thoughts.  A thousand thought, ideas was processing, running on its own track in his mind, some to file away for later, other to awaken more thoughts and ideas.

The events that had occurred that evening had scraped his usual composure.  Nothing was left, just a man feeling defenseless and naked where he stood.

Death walked by his side, today closer than normal, so close to him, so close to Sherlock, thankful Mary made her last choice (God bless her) or, he would be the one who cried for his beloved loss. He left his paperwork on his desk in the office and went in the living room, not turning on the light, he knows exactly where everything is, and instead he opened the curtains that were hiding the view of Kensington Gardens and, far from there, hidden by the fog, the London skyline.

He took a bottle of scotch, a new one, and filled the glass with a very kindly dose.  Making himself comfortable on the sofa he gazed outside the large window, closing his eyes at the first sip of that amber liquid. It was midnight, and he knew it was going to be a very long night.

 

oOo

 

The clock read past two in the morning when Greg finally arrived home, parking his car in front of the house.  He turned the car but didn't get out.  His hands on the steering wheel were still shaking as he processed the night's events.  Everything in him wanted to stay; he didn't want to leave John in the midst of the tragedy he was in.  Luckily he wasn't alone, trusted old Mrs. Hudson and Molly was with him, playing nursemaid, caretaker, friend and babysitter to both father and daughter.  Poor Rosie, losing her mom.  Greg did all he could, after leaving John he went to NSY, filing and doing the necessary paperwork to get it over and done with as quickly as he could.  The police side was done.  The other side, the coping was left, and he couldn't solve that in a night.

He didn't know how long he sat there when the familiar sounds of an ambulance rushing past shook him out of his reverie and he got out of the car with a deep sigh.  His footsteps was heavy as he walked to the front door, all the windows were dark. 

He unlocked the door and closed it behind him, he left his coat in the hallway next to Mycroft's, he made his way inside the living room to the small drinking bar in the corner, the room was lit with the outside lights, casting enough light for him to find his way.  Picking up the half empty bottle of Scotch he filled a glass and sat down on the sofa next to the tired man, watching him silently.  He turned to Mycroft.

"You shouldn't waited up for my My, it's too late, you should've gotten some decent sleep." 

Mycroft sighed and took his hand, smiling weakly.

"Gregory, I would never be so selfish to go to sleep without waiting for you, besides it would be impossible to sleep tonight."

"How long have you been here?"  Greg took a sip from the glass, the liquid soothing his nerves somewhat.

"Midnight, around there, the secret service is holding the murderer.  Made some arrangements and then came home."

They were quiet, both with their own thoughts, Mycroft's glass almost empty, Greg's about half.  Mycroft squeezed Greg's hand.

"I had a lot of time to think, my dear..."  Greg squeezed back looking at him intently.

"...I thought at how close we came to death tonight:  Sherlock and then Mary, I owe her so much, but then I realized that, that women could have pointed the gun to any of us, at any time, to me or worse you." 

"My..." Greg tried to comfort him but Mycroft went on.

"I realized every day could be the last between us."  Greg moved closer on the sofa to hold him closer.

"Both of us were always aware of the dangers, it’s part of the game, part of life, and it is somehow both our lives. Come on, you are in shock, let's go to bed."

"No." Mycroft said, his voice stronger than it has been the whole night.  He drank more of his Scotch. 

"Let me finish, I am begging you for your forgiveness, I have not been a good partner to you lately.  I've been detached, distant and always busy and somehow I have never told you how important you are to me."

Greg took a breath, and put his glass down, he took Mycroft's glass and put it on the table next to his, and he grasped both of Mycroft's hand in his.

"I have always been aware of your feelings,  I know how you feel about me, and I understand that there are not always words needed."  He let go of one hand to cup Mycroft's cheek that leaned in to the touch.

"I need to tell you Gregory, tonight, I see now; I understand better, my reluctance to speak about my feelings, where did it bring me?  You say you know how I feel, without hearing it, why am I hiding them?  If death is waiting for me in Samarra, I will meet it there and there is no escape."

Greg frowned.

"Samarra, My what are you talking about?"  Greg was lost and didn't understand, his words betraying his confusion, and the exhaustion didn't help.  Mycroft etched closer so that their faces were inches apart, Greg could see the shine in them in the moonlight, the intensity of his gaze.

"Gregory, I love you.  I have loved you from the first time I saw you, and I have no idea what captured me, your eyes, your bright smile I just know it was everything it had to me.  I should've told you sooner, my foolishness stopped me, you need to know.  I love you."

Greg took a breath, his eyes filled up with tears, his hands reaching out to cup Mycroft's cheeks; he leaned in closer and whispered.

"I love you too."  Before he closed the distance and kissed him.

 

 

OOOO

 

_Samarkand_

_(_ _There was a big celebration in the capital_  
_‘cause the war is finally over_  
_The soldiers had come home_  
_and they’d taken off their uniforms._  
_In the street they were dancing and wining_  
_The musicians played on and on_ _  
_ _It was spring, and women could finally hug their men..”)_

 

_Laughing, laughing and laughing once again,_

_war isn't scary anymore._

_At night, uniforms burn in bonfires_

_and plenty of wine burns the throats,_

_sounds of tambourines until dawn,_

_a soldier who had been dancing all night long,_

_saw that lady in black in the crowd,_

_he saw she was looking for him and got frightened._

_"Save me, save me, your Highness,_

_help me escape from here._

_She was standing next to me during the parade_

_and she was giving me the evil eye"._

_"Give him, give him an animal_

_bred from lightning, worth of a king,_

_faster, faster, so that he can escape_

_give him the fastest steed"._

_"Gallop, horse, gallop, I beg you_

_I will guide you to Samarkand,_

_don't stop, fly, I beg you_

_run like the wind and I will be safe..._

_Oh oh horse, oh oh horse, oh oh horse,_

_oh oh horse, oh oh..."_

_Rivers, then fields and the dawn was purple_

_white were the towers he finally reached,_

_but that lady in black was in the crowd,_

_and he was tired of fleeing and bowed his head._

_"You were there in the crowd in the capital_

_I know you were giving me the evil eye_

_I ran away among crickets and cicadas_

_I ran away and I meet you again here!"_

_"You are wrong, you are mistaken, you are wrong, soldier,_

_I wasn't giving you the evil eye_

_It was just an astonished gaze,_

_what were you doing there the day before yesterday?_

_I expected you to be here in Samarkand today,_

_you were so far away two days ago,_

_I feared you'd stay and listen to the band,_

_and you'd never arrive here on time."_

_"Samarkand is not so far away,_

_gallop, horse, gallop in that direction..._

_I have been singing with you all night long_

_run like the wind that will get there._

_Oh oh horse, oh oh horse, oh oh horse,_

_oh oh horse, oh oh..."_

 

 

1977  
Lyrics and music by Roberto Vecchioni  
Album: Samarcanda

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story after the episode 4.01 and posted in Italian language on 10 th of January 2017 with the title “Riflessioni di un Holmes”(Holmes’ deepest thoughts). 
> 
> Below the story there is the English translation of Italian song “Samarcanda” (I found lyrics on web) inspired to the author by the novel “Appointment in Samarra” by John O’Hara, the same novel inspiring Sherlock’s authors.


End file.
